


it's brighter now

by sadwhales



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23703619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadwhales/pseuds/sadwhales
Summary: Normal is the new normal. Having a boyfriend makes it easier, even if that, too, has taken a little practice.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 21
Kudos: 239





	it's brighter now

**Author's Note:**

> In my mind, this takes place in a timeline where Mickey did a short sentence, Ian became an EMT and they got back together after. So, an AU, basically, but it's not that important while reading the fic.
> 
> This is just nonsense, but quarantine is making me insane and I had to write something. Oh, the title is from Taylor Swift's "Daylight"!

When summer rolls around, Mickey starts wearing the ridiculous sleeveless shirts again. It reminds Ian so much of being a teenager, being uncertain and giddy, hanging onto every second of fooling around at the dugouts, that he feels like the breath is knocked out of his lungs.

It was never enough, what he did with Mickey, always left Ian hungry for more in a way he hadn’t known was possible. That’s the one thing that hasn’t changed; he can’t ever get enough of Mickey, wants all of him, all the time. Now he asks for it, though, and Mickey doesn’t pull away or look scared, or if he does, the flicker of fear is always followed by almost vicious determination. These days, Mickey puts his stubbornness to use by literally gritting his teeth and clasping Ian’s hand in the middle of the frozen food aisle at the grocery store and letting Ian squeeze until he relaxes into the touch.

It’s their first summer back together, and Ian embraces the mixture of teenage nostalgia and newfound stability. They’ve both grown, Ian thinks, and they seem to fit together more seamlessly.

“Christ, why do you even buy normal shirts when you’re going to cut them all up, anyway?” Ian asks, leaning on the back of the couch, chin on Mickey’s shoulder.

It’s too hot to do anything, according to Mickey, who’s been slouching on the cushions in the same position for the last forty minutes, nursing a beer and eyeing a soccer game Ian knows he doesn’t give a shit about.

Mickey huffs, turns his head automatically to press a kiss onto Ian’s cheek. Ian slides his hands down Mickey’s bare arms. It’s not like he doesn’t fully enjoy seeing as much of Mickey as possible at all times, but he’s endlessly amused by Mickey’s aversion to covered shoulders. Even when they’d been working at Kash and Grab, he’d cut off the sleeves of his security uniform. Linda hadn’t been too pleased.

“Dunno”, Mickey murmurs against Ian’s cheek. “I like the pattern.”

That earns a laugh from Ian. “Mickey Milkovich, the fashionista.”

“Shut up”, Mickey says, smiling, and pulls at Ian’s arm until he climbs over the back onto the couch to sit beside him.

Ian pushes closer immediately, kisses him properly, thumbs at the corner of Mickey’s mouth. Mickey’s hand lands on Ian’s bare thigh, and he fumbles to set his near-empty beer can down. Ian doesn’t let go even as he pulls back, just holds Mickey’s gaze firmly.

“So”, he begins.

Mickey immediately looks suspicious. “What? What do you want?”

Ian tries to steer his expression to something resembling confusion. “Who says I want something?”

“Your face does.”

“Okay, alright, hear me out. The guys from work-”

Mickey cuts him off without hesitation. “No.”

Dammit. Ian should know better than to lead with “the guys from work”.

“No, Mickey, just listen”, he tries, grabs Mickey’s shoulders. “We’re having this picnic on Saturday, nothing fancy. We’re all pitching in and buying burgers and shit to grill, it’s literally just eating and drinking beer.”

“And fucking… _mingling_ ”, Mickey counters. “And people I don’t wanna talk to.”

“Well, yeah”, Ian admits. He knows Mickey doesn’t do well with people he doesn’t know, especially when he’s expected to be friendly and open. Ian’s gotten pretty good at adapting over the years, fitting more smoothly into different environments, but Mickey will probably always be a little rougher around the edges. Now though, Mickey is a permanent part of Ian’s life, and Ian wants to go to places as an actual couple, maybe show his boyfriend around a little. Sue him. “But you can just talk to me. Come on, you’ll have fun.”

Mickey scoffs. Well, maybe _fun_ ’s too hopeful. But Ian’s sure it wouldn’t be as horrible as Mickey imagines.

“We were _specifically_ told we should bring someone”, Ian presses. “You know, family or partner or whatever.”

“So take Lip! Or any one of your billion fucking siblings! I look like I’d be good company at some lame-ass picnic?”

Ian makes a face. The last thing he wants is for his siblings and his coworkers to mix. Besides.

“I want to take _you_ ”, he protests. “It’d be less lame if you were there. Plus, they’re all dying to meet you.”

“What? The fuck for?”

Ian rolls his eyes, but feels his cheeks redden. “Because I guess I don’t shut up about you. But they’ve never seen you, so they’re probably starting to think I’ve made you up.”

At that, Mickey laughs. “I think you usually go for something a little more respectable when you wanna make up a boyfriend.”

Mickey actually using the word “boyfriend” is still rare enough that Ian’s heart skips a little.

“I don’t know”, he says, tries to sound considering even though he can’t hold back his smile. “I think I might have a type.”

Mickey’s face softens a fraction, and Ian counts it as a victory. Mickey must catch himself slipping, because he groans quietly and rubs a hand over his face. “Shit.”

“It’ll be fine”, Ian assures him, leans in to kiss his jaw. “The whole thing’s outside, in the park. We can escape any time if you want to.”

Mickey grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, the hand he’d had on Ian’s thigh returns, dipping slightly under Ian’s loose basketball shorts. He captures Ian’s lips again, with clear purpose, and Ian smiles into the kiss. He doesn’t really mind putting the conversation on hold for this. For all his complaining about the heat, Mickey seems pretty eager to sweat when it means he’s taking Ian’s dick.

“We’re not done talking about this”, Ian tells him and presses him into the cushions.

Ian’s persuasion techniques are successful, and Mickey does accompany him to the picnic on Saturday. He bitches about it the entire morning, of course, but Ian knows him well enough to know when Mickey’s actually pissed, and when he’s complaining for the sake of complaining.

The park is bustling with life by the time they get there. A group of Ian’s coworkers and their family members greets him immediately upon arriving, and Ian can feel Mickey tense slightly.

“Ian!” yells Addie. “You’re here! Oh, and this must be…”

“Mickey”, Ian fills in, briefly squeezing Mickey’s arm. “This is Mickey.”

Ian’s told practically everyone he was going to bring his boyfriend, so he figures it’s clear who Mickey is to him. Ian would kind of love to state it explicitly, and maybe Mickey wouldn’t mind, but Ian doesn’t want to make him any more skittish when there’s already clearly more than enough attention on him.

“Hey”, Mickey greets them gruffly. He doesn’t offer a hand, because he never does.

“Certainly nice to put a face to all the praises”, Addie says, glancing at Ian slyly.

Ian feels his cheeks heat up. Yep, he’s never going to hear the end of it.

It goes smoothly, all things considered. There are enough new people present that the attention isn’t constantly on them, but Ian hadn’t been lying when he’d said that everyone was really looking forward to meeting Mickey.

He gets all the standard questions, like what does he do for a living and how long have he and Ian been together (that one’s less tricky than “how did you meet?”, because depending on the company, Ian doesn’t always care to explain teenage Mickey threatening to beat him up and constantly robbing his workplace).

Mickey’s, well, not entirely pleasant, but he isn’t rude, either, which probably counts as pleasant when he’s talking to anyone else besides Ian. He stands at Ian’s side stiffly, answers all the questions and even throws in a couple “how ‘bout you”s. Ian doesn’t try to hold his hand, but every now and then he splays his fingers on the small of Mickey’s back, just for a few seconds, waits for Mickey to lean into the touch. He’s all warm from the sun against Ian’s hand.

Eventually they split from the group to grab hot dogs and some beer.

“Not so bad, right?” Ian questions.

“I need a fucking drink”, Mickey says, but he’s considerably more relaxed than he was when they arrived. “All your friends talk that much?”

They do. Ian gets caught up in another conversation with a couple of guys he knows, and Mickey uses his food tactically to avoid participating. Ian’s bottle is barely half-empty when Mickey downs the last of his drink and tells him he’s getting another.

Ian watches him go. It’s such a weird setting, because it’s so _normal_ ; taking his boyfriend and meeting up with friends in a park, talking to people who have at least somewhat functional lives, actual jobs. Nobody is shitfaced or getting arrested. It’s _nice_. Ian’s having a nice fucking time, and Mickey’s right there with him because Ian asked him to.

“So, uh”, one of the guys, Seth, starts. He’s looking at Ian curiously.

“Yeah?”

“Did your guy bail on you?”

Ian frowns, confused. “What? What guy?”

“Your boyfriend”, Seth says, like it should be obvious. “You were going to bring your boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah”, Ian says, slowly. He isn’t following at all. “I did.”

Seth looks as confused as Ian feels. He looks around. “Where is he?”

“What the fuck?” Ian asks incredulously, starting to realize that this guy apparently thinks that Mickey’s just some random dude whose ass Ian spent a solid twenty seconds staring at as he was walking away. “You literally just met him.”

It takes embarrassingly long for Seth to catch up. “ _That_ was your boyfriend?” he asks, eyes wide.

Something in Seth’s voice puts Ian’s hackles right up. Fat fucking chance he’s going to let some prick judge his boyfriend’s stupid sleeveless shirt and knuckle tattoos and permanent scowl.

Ian stands up a little straighter, fixes Seth with a glare. “Yeah, that’s my fucking boyfriend.”

He must really look like he’s ready to throw hands, because Seth backtracks immediately.

“No, shit! I’m not trying to be an asshole, he just…”

Ian raises a brow. “He just what?” he presses.

Seth shrugs. At least he has the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “He doesn’t really look… gay. With the tattoos, and all. He’s so…” he gestures weakly. “I thought he was your friend or something.”

“Doesn’t look gay?” Ian echoes. The kind of annoyance that stems from dealing with ignorant motherfuckers is quickly replacing his initial defensiveness. Not like he hasn’t heard the same shit before. “What the fuck do you think gay dudes are supposed to look like? Do I look gay enough?”

Seth shrugs again, discomfort morphing to mild panic. He probably honestly didn’t mean to be an asshole, but Ian’s always hated people leaning on stereotypes. More than that, he’s always hated people making assumptions about his and Mickey’s relationship. He shouldn’t have to explain it to anyone.

“Look”, Seth tries. “I really didn’t mean it like that, man, I’m sorry.”

Ian huffs. “Whatever, it’s fine. Maybe don’t assume next time, huh?”

He stalks off to find Mickey, who is, without a doubt, taking as much time as he possibly can on his beer run. Ian’s not surprised to spot him loitering around the picnic tables, a bottle in hand.

Mickey sees Ian coming towards him, takes in his rigid posture and the annoyed set of his jaw, and makes a vaguely apologetic face. “Needed a break.”

“Oh, no”, Ian says when he comes to a stop. “I think I need one, too.”

“You, Mr. Social?” Mickey jokes, then frowns when it doesn’t get the intended reaction. “What?”

“Nothing”, Ian sighs, makes a conscious effort to relax his face. “Just, that guy.” He nods behind him.

Mickey’s frown only deepens. “Why, did he say something?”

“No. Well, yeah. But he wasn’t trying to be a dick”, Ian says, just in case Mickey tries to go over there and give the poor man a piece of his mind. “Whatever. Still pisses me off.”

Mickey doesn’t let up. “What does?”

“It’s just…Well. He asked me where my boyfriend was. I had to explain it’s you.”

“The fuck?” Mickey asks. “I’ve been hanging around you the entire goddamn day. Who the fuck else would I be?”

“Yeah”, Ian responds cautiously. “Apparently, you don’t look…gay enough.”

For a second, Mickey looks so offended that Ian almost wants to burst out laughing. The irony of the situation is not lost on him: some years ago, Mickey’s reaction would have been the exact opposite. He certainly never would have been concerned about looking too straight.

“Not- _what_? Not _gay_ enough?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I’m sorry, was I supposed to tell everyone we meet how much I love sucking your dick?”

Ian snickers despite himself. “Kind of already done that, Mick.”

Mickey’s not listening. “Jesus Christ, I thought these people were supposed to be smart.”

“I know”, Ian tells him. “Can’t help it, I guess. The stereotypes. I just hate that… Like it’s a _compliment_.” Ian’s heard it many times before, with his military training and southside manners. “When they say it like it’s a good thing you look straight.”

“Well”, Mickey says, jaw clenching. He might also be thinking about how a few years ago, it absolutely would have been a compliment to him. “It’s bullshit.”

It’s nice, in a way, that Mickey’s as worked up about this as Ian. Of course, Mickey is pretty worked up about most minor inconveniences. It’s just part of his charm. In any case, Ian’s mood is immediately improved a bit by Mickey having his back on the issue.

“It is”, Ian agrees. Then he puts a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “But fuck them, right. Doesn’t matter what they think they know. Come on, I want to try the chicken burger.”

Mickey stops him by grabbing his wrist. “Hey. You know I’m… _proud_ , or whatever, about being with you, right? I’s not about… I _want_ to look like your boyfriend. I don’t wanna do that hiding shit anymore.”

Warmth blooms in Ian’s chest. It’s stupid, maybe, that he feels a little choked up. He _knows_ that, but hearing it out loud, in Mickey’s own words, is entirely different. This is probably the first time Ian’s ever heard Mickey use the word “proud” in relation to himself.

He squeezes Mickey’s shoulder, a slow smile pulling at his lips. “I know.”

Mickey shifts but doesn’t pull away. He fixes Ian with a stare. “And these fuckheads better not be hitting on you ‘cause they think I don’t exist or something.”

Ian laughs and pushes him back towards the picnic tables.

Ian knows Mickey had meant what he’d said, but he underestimates how serious he had been. Somehow, Mickey always manages to surprise him.

After Ian’s had his burger, they join another group of people standing in the shade of a tree; three coworkers and a girl Ian doesn’t know. Mickey will want to leave soon, but Ian wants to at least say hi.

Ian greets them, is just about to introduce Mickey, who’s been trailing silently behind him, when-

“Hi”, Mickey says, firm and polite and weirdly challenging. Ian goes quiet. “Mickey. I’m Ian’s boyfriend.”

Ian thinks his mouth drops open, like a cartoon. Mickey still doesn’t shake any hands, but if he did, Ian suspects he would combust from pure shock. Everyone else seems to think the situation is completely normal, because they greet Mickey and start listing their own names.

The conversation picks up, but Ian’s distracted. He stares at Mickey, smiling like an idiot, and Mickey glances at him from the corner of his eye, throws Ian a secret smirk of his own. Ian tries to swallow the urge to tell Mickey how stupidly proud he is. He wants nothing more than to pull Mickey into a kiss, tackle him to the ground, just fucking _show_ him.

He settles for curling a hand around Mickey’s wrist. Mickey shifts closer until their shoulders are pressed together.

Twenty minutes later, Mickey’s hand dips into the back pocket of Ian’s jeans. Ian’s not at all sorry about leaving.

When they get home, Ian wastes no time letting Mickey know exactly what he’s thinking.

In under seven minutes, Mickey’s on his back on the bed, legs splayed apart and hands gripping the sheets. Ian’s got three fingers inside him, enjoying the way Mickey throws his head back and the way sweat pools onto his lower belly when Ian twists his wrist. They’re not in a hurry, so Ian switches between stroking Mickey with his other hand and using his mouth at an almost leisurely pace.

“You know”, Ian starts, hand slowing down.

“Jesus” Mickey gasps from above him. “What?”

“It was nice today, right?”

“What?” Mickey repeats, sounding sort of disoriented. “ _Fine_ , I guess- Why are you stopping? Keep going.”

“So I was _thinking_ ”, Ian punctuates the words with another jab or his fingers. Mickey twitches. “There’s this trivia night next week…”

“You are _not_ fucking bringing this up right now”, Mickey says, propping himself up onto his elbows, looking down at Ian incredulously. “Tell me you’re not fucking bringing this up right now.”

Ian shrugs, smiles, too pleased by Mickey’s flushed face. “Worked last time.”

“ _Exactly_ ”, Mickey groans and drops his head back onto the pillow. “Don’t fucking push your luck.”

“Fine, worth a shot”, Ian says, gets back to work. There’s always the bowling night next month.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, here's my [tumblr](https://farfromohio.tumblr.com/)  
> I'm not like, super active there but feel free to come throw rocks at me or scream about Shameless!


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